


Bring Me Water

by elliotwritesgarbage



Series: sickfics [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Emetophilia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Motion Sickness, Sickfic, Vomiting, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 02:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotwritesgarbage/pseuds/elliotwritesgarbage
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive is nauseous on a train.





	Bring Me Water

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr March 2017.
> 
> (Original notes)  
> Hello, hello! After some not-so-gentle encouragement from Crybaby over at @tossing-cookies, I have finally started my own sickfic blog! You can call me Elliot, if you want to talk to me at all. This work features the patron saint of this blog, Ciel Phantomhive.

Ciel had always found train travel boring, ever since he was a kid, and him and his parents would take the train wherever Vincent’s work took them. As soon as he had learned to read, Ciel learned that reading on trains would not resolve boredom so much as completely obliterate any hope of having a peaceful travel day. Trying to focus on tiny printed words while the countryside whipped past the window of the carriage left him with a splitting headache and the sensation of liquid rising in his throat. And so, on every train journey, he would sit and watch the scenery, occasionally speaking to Sebastian about whatever they were headed to solve.

It was usually simple to avoid reading on the train. Usually, but not today. After his last case he had let a multitude of important files containing important paperwork slip through his fingers, leading to more paperwork, and of course, a pounding headache to match the rhythm of the train.

Sebastian had expressed his displeasure at the thought of Ciel reading in a moving train, but Ciel silenced him with, ‘‘Hush, you. I’m not a child.’’

Sebastian had scoffed, but resigned to watch him complete his work with mild interest and dread, the way one might watch a fire while knowing it will certainly spark into an inferno. The way one follows a derailed train until it hits a building, or a tree, or careens off a cliff.

The words swam before Ciel’s eyes as he attempted to read yet another report on revenue. It was undoubtedly important, but Ciel’s priorities were elsewhere. He wanted nothing more than to remove his eyepatch for something more comfortable, knowing full well it would do nothing to relieve the pain but feeling comforted by the idea nonetheless. With the next few pages, the pressure behind his eyes grew somewhat unbearable, and he was surprised they weren’t bleeding. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes and groaned quietly.

Sebastian looked up and smirked, but said nothing. The damned dirty demon enjoyed this very much.

The next page, which Ciel signed his name to without so much as reading, left a cold, metallic feeling in the back of his throat, as though he had swallowed a coin. The cold feeling was entirely unwelcome, as was the headache, and the excessive saliva production his mouth was currently being subjected to.

He pushed his papers off his lap quickly, feeling in his stomach a warning sign. The cold feeling in his throat was offset by a bubbling belch, bringing with it a small amount of stomach acid. He swallowed down the putrid substance and put his papers back on his lap, earning him a small noise of amusement from Sebastian.

‘‘You think this is funny, do you?’’ He choked around the words, trying to spit them harshly through a burning throat.

‘‘Certainly not, young master.’’ He was smirking as he said it.

Despite the discomfort in his gut, the twisting, kneading feeling deep in his stomach, and the lack of control he felt, he raised a new packet and began to read once more.

He had to fight to keep his sore eyes open when they wanted nothing more than to sleep. In reality, he wanted to put his head down and sleep, although sleeping on trains had always been an impossibility as well. The thought of reclining made his weak stomach clench anew, and he felt something splash in the back of his throat.

With a loud, strangled noise, he choked it back and swallowed, pulling his luggage over to him and gently sliding the papers inside. He placed his case on the bench beside him and placed his hands his lap. He took a shaky breath and assessed the situation. His head throbbed, and his skin felt hot, although he knew it was a trick of the headache, and not a fever. His throat burned from the stomach acid coursing up. His nose ran slightly, a side effect of the acid splashing into his sinuses, and he was producing an alarming amount of saliva. His nausea was radiating from the pits of his stomach to the back of his throat, which still tasted metallic.

His next breath was shaky. He felt his throat constrict around the first gag, the second, and then-

Sebastian was in front of him in an instant, moving so quickly Ciel didn’t register it at first. Unable to do much else, he tipped his young master forward and held out his gloved hands expectantly. Sebastian’s hands stayed cupped dutifully below Ciel’s chin as Ciel gagged loudly one last time, and vomit spilled past his lips in a watery stream. He retched again, painfully, trying to bend forward to ease the pain in his stomach. The vile liquid shot form his mouth, splattering not only into Sebastian’s   
waiting hands, but onto his trousers and shoes as well.

Sebastian sighed, and Ciel whimpered pitifully before gagging again, bringing up soft chunks of his breakfast and subsequently spraying them into Sebastian’s perfectly cupped gloves. He coughed violently, bringing up a touch more sick, which he swallowed down reluctantly. He shuddered, grateful the worst part was over, and looked at his butler.

The bottom of the left leg of Sebastian’s pants had been splattered with puke. From between the fingers of his large hands, the less viscous component of the sick dripped slowly. Ciel was glad he had not gotten any on himself, save perhaps his chin, as the sight of Sebastian covered in it made him want to be sick all over again.

He had the decency to feel ashamed, just not the decency to show it. In a matter of minutes, Sebastian had left their compartment to go to the restroom, rid himself as best he could of the matter and the smell, and returned, wearing a fresh pair of gloves, although with a suspiciously wet left leg. Ciel’s stomach churned again and he whimpered. He pressed his aching head against the cool glass of the window and tried to close his eyes, but sleep did not come no matter how hard he hoped.

Sebastian, for the most part, remained silent after that. Ciel hoped that being used as a vomit rag had humbled him, even if only slightly.

‘‘Bring me water,’’ Ciel croaked, his throat sore from the torture of vomiting. He barely registered Sebatian’s coming and going, but he did register the cool cloth being placed on his head. The damp fabric felt soothing against his poor forehead, and he pulled the hand towel over his eyes, trying to keep it from falling off his face.

‘‘You must open your eyes if you wish to drink, young lord.’’ Sebastian spoke more softly than Ciel had heard him before. Gratefully, Ciel opened his eyes and reached for the glass, raising it to his mouth and taking a long, plentiful drink. Before Sebastian had time to finish his warning, the water he had just barely swallowed came bolting back up again. Ciel pitched forward and opened his mouth, letting the now foul-tasting water drip from his nose and mouth, splattering onto the floor, along with the cool cloth, the rest of his stomach contents and most of his dignity.

Whatever relief had been brought by the water was gone, and his stomach was trying it’s hardest to punish him. Although there was nothing left to bring up, he tried valiantly to continue the flow of acid through his nose and mouth.

Sebastian sighed as Ciel staggered through another round of vomiting, gagging more harshly than the last, unable to do anything but let his small body be ravaged by coughs and heaves. His weak back muscles tensed, and he bent forward more with every retched. He coughed wetly, uncovered, onto the floor.

Once he was fairly certain his stomach had settled, he put his head against the window once more, fighting the disorientation that came with his motion sickness. His headache was impossibly worse. His throat burned anew, and he was certain he’d be sick again he had to stay in a compartment covered in his own vomit. He took a deep breath through his itching nose, hoping to quell the burning.

‘‘Sebastian,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Clean this up. And bring me more water.’’

His eyes swelled with unshed tears, and shut his eyes to prevent them from falling. A few stray tears slipped down his cheeks regardless, and he wiped them away impatiently. His stomach filled with embarrassment and his face grew hot when he heard Sebastian speaking to an attendant about cleaning the compartment, and apologizing for the terrible inconvenience.

Ciel opened his eyes briefly, to see Sebastian kneeling in front of him with another towel, and shut his eyes again, the sight of his puddle of vomit getting mopped up making his stomach want to replace it.

‘‘I would like to think that you’re smarter than this, but alas.’’ Sebastian said mockingly. ‘‘You should know by now that your stomach is too weak to drink that quickly.’’

Ciel put his head against the window again, letting the cool glass soothe his warm cheek.


End file.
